Post by Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass on Aug 27, 2007 15:04:15 GMT -5
This is a
|. Plummeting Shards Creation .|
You may expect anything or nothing.
Think what you may,
but you're about to witness greatness.
---
|x| So the legacy begins .. |x|
The black dissipates, showing you the XVI World Heavyweight Championship, draped over a shoulder covered in black leather. In the golden plating of the championship belt, was carved a name. A name of a great man, the name of the man who is one of the best athletes in Professional Wrestling today and the name of a man who deserved every bit of praise he was getting ..
[glow=gold,2,300] Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass [/glow]
As the camera moves out, you see this man in full. Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass stands before you, decked out in his usual attire. His white tank-top underneath his black leather trench coat and his legs covered by a pair of light blue, ripped jeans. On his feet were a pair of black leather boots, which were stood in a puddle in what seemed to be a dark, damp and dreary alleyway.
His hair hangs from his head, wet from the mist which falls around him. Water drips from his nose as his eyes stare down at his shoulder, gazing upon the gold that was shining from underneath the light coating of water sprayed upon it by the mist falling from the sky.
Jordan ~ Take this time to realize that you always shut your eyes in the midst of trial. I think that it's time that this battle be won, but you push it aside, pretend that it's gone. This circle will never end, and in time you must face it, don't pretend that it's over.
Jordan raises a hand up, rubbing it over the frigid gold of the belt as he speaks.
Jordan ~ Don't come looking for me, because I'll be right here with those words you said. You know what you said, you know. How can anybody forget those words that you said? I always knew you'd fall through, and now you proved. Rewind to the first time that I felt this coming, I knew you could not last. I'll make this quick, I'll make this painless.
Jordan's eyes now stray from that belt upon his shoulder, his head staying tilted down, but his hand continues to rub it oh so softly. His eyes lock onto yours, and you can feel his presence in your room, as if he were right beside you.
Jordan ~ Szaban, at The American Dream .. I should have won this title for myself. I initiated that inside cradle and I evaded your move by doing so, but yet that imbecile of a referee saw it as a draw, hence we both wear this belt .. but with pride, nonetheless.
Jordan's head now tilts upward so now his full face is directed toward the camera, and his full awe-inspiring look of burning, flaming, incinerating hate for Szaban can be read from the expression etched onto his stoic visage.
Jordan ~ This isn't over Szaban, not by a fucking long shot. I will claim this title for myself, and myself as ONE champion, not one half. Not one of two, I will win this belt for my self and you won't stand in my way when it comes time for us to be face to face once more. You'll be out of luck, kid. Plum out of luck.
Jordan takes a step back, leaning on a brick wall of a building. His hand still softly massaging the belt over his shoulder, he gazes deep into that lens, knowing inside himself that you are unable to tear yourself away from his icy stare.
Jordan ~ Now to move onto this week, which is only an obstacle in my path of wrath until I get my hands around Matthew's throat. Infamous By Design, or in other words .. Gavin Gyaos and Leon "Paleboy" Raymer.
Jordan smirks, laughing.
Jordan ~ I haven't even heard of this Paleboy kid .. so forget him, he's obviously nothing. Some kid who thinks he's good, that he has what it takes to hack it in XVI, but after his first match, he'll bail .. just like so many others.
Jordan laughs again, patting the championship gold on his shoulder. He looks down at it as he continues to softly rub his hand over it.
Jordan ~ You don't get THIS, by bailing out after one match. You get this by sticking in there through thick and thin and whooping asses left, right and center. I've never lost a match, and I don't plan on having this be my first. Especially since this is Ticker's final match .. it has to be special, it has to be a win.
Jordan looks up toward the sky, squinting against the light mist still falling from the dark clouds above. He smiles into the sky, laughing a little under his breath.
Jordan ~ Gavin Gyaos .. what the hell kind of name is that? Gyaos? Like .. really? There's no way that's really your name. Anyway, it doesn't matter because after Side Effect, you're name won't ever be said again. Nobody will dare say your name again after what Ticker and I do to you are your little partner.
Jordan looks down at the camera, smiling. His icy blue eyes drilling into you like diamonds.
Jordan ~ Gavin, Leon .. Infamous By Design, Serafin is Modern Evolution, and you are a lower life form. We will prevail, and remember .. needles prick, knives cut .. but glass scars. You'll be scarred come Side Effect. Believe me, you will be .. but I have one question for you two ..
Jordan leans in close to the camera, taking his belt from his shoulder and holding it just under his chin so that all you can see is his head and his belt. He then says, in the quietest whisper ..
Jordan ~ .. are you ready?
Blackness.
|x| .. and you have no hope. |x|
[Fin]
[/i][/b]|. Plummeting Shards Creation .|
You may expect anything or nothing.
Think what you may,
but you're about to witness greatness.
---
|x| So the legacy begins .. |x|
The black dissipates, showing you the XVI World Heavyweight Championship, draped over a shoulder covered in black leather. In the golden plating of the championship belt, was carved a name. A name of a great man, the name of the man who is one of the best athletes in Professional Wrestling today and the name of a man who deserved every bit of praise he was getting ..
[glow=gold,2,300] Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass [/glow]
As the camera moves out, you see this man in full. Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass stands before you, decked out in his usual attire. His white tank-top underneath his black leather trench coat and his legs covered by a pair of light blue, ripped jeans. On his feet were a pair of black leather boots, which were stood in a puddle in what seemed to be a dark, damp and dreary alleyway.
His hair hangs from his head, wet from the mist which falls around him. Water drips from his nose as his eyes stare down at his shoulder, gazing upon the gold that was shining from underneath the light coating of water sprayed upon it by the mist falling from the sky.
Jordan ~ Take this time to realize that you always shut your eyes in the midst of trial. I think that it's time that this battle be won, but you push it aside, pretend that it's gone. This circle will never end, and in time you must face it, don't pretend that it's over.
Jordan raises a hand up, rubbing it over the frigid gold of the belt as he speaks.
Jordan ~ Don't come looking for me, because I'll be right here with those words you said. You know what you said, you know. How can anybody forget those words that you said? I always knew you'd fall through, and now you proved. Rewind to the first time that I felt this coming, I knew you could not last. I'll make this quick, I'll make this painless.
Jordan's eyes now stray from that belt upon his shoulder, his head staying tilted down, but his hand continues to rub it oh so softly. His eyes lock onto yours, and you can feel his presence in your room, as if he were right beside you.
Jordan ~ Szaban, at The American Dream .. I should have won this title for myself. I initiated that inside cradle and I evaded your move by doing so, but yet that imbecile of a referee saw it as a draw, hence we both wear this belt .. but with pride, nonetheless.
Jordan's head now tilts upward so now his full face is directed toward the camera, and his full awe-inspiring look of burning, flaming, incinerating hate for Szaban can be read from the expression etched onto his stoic visage.
Jordan ~ This isn't over Szaban, not by a fucking long shot. I will claim this title for myself, and myself as ONE champion, not one half. Not one of two, I will win this belt for my self and you won't stand in my way when it comes time for us to be face to face once more. You'll be out of luck, kid. Plum out of luck.
Jordan takes a step back, leaning on a brick wall of a building. His hand still softly massaging the belt over his shoulder, he gazes deep into that lens, knowing inside himself that you are unable to tear yourself away from his icy stare.
Jordan ~ Now to move onto this week, which is only an obstacle in my path of wrath until I get my hands around Matthew's throat. Infamous By Design, or in other words .. Gavin Gyaos and Leon "Paleboy" Raymer.
Jordan smirks, laughing.
Jordan ~ I haven't even heard of this Paleboy kid .. so forget him, he's obviously nothing. Some kid who thinks he's good, that he has what it takes to hack it in XVI, but after his first match, he'll bail .. just like so many others.
Jordan laughs again, patting the championship gold on his shoulder. He looks down at it as he continues to softly rub his hand over it.
Jordan ~ You don't get THIS, by bailing out after one match. You get this by sticking in there through thick and thin and whooping asses left, right and center. I've never lost a match, and I don't plan on having this be my first. Especially since this is Ticker's final match .. it has to be special, it has to be a win.
Jordan looks up toward the sky, squinting against the light mist still falling from the dark clouds above. He smiles into the sky, laughing a little under his breath.
Jordan ~ Gavin Gyaos .. what the hell kind of name is that? Gyaos? Like .. really? There's no way that's really your name. Anyway, it doesn't matter because after Side Effect, you're name won't ever be said again. Nobody will dare say your name again after what Ticker and I do to you are your little partner.
Jordan looks down at the camera, smiling. His icy blue eyes drilling into you like diamonds.
Jordan ~ Gavin, Leon .. Infamous By Design, Serafin is Modern Evolution, and you are a lower life form. We will prevail, and remember .. needles prick, knives cut .. but glass scars. You'll be scarred come Side Effect. Believe me, you will be .. but I have one question for you two ..
Jordan leans in close to the camera, taking his belt from his shoulder and holding it just under his chin so that all you can see is his head and his belt. He then says, in the quietest whisper ..
Jordan ~ .. are you ready?
Blackness.
|x| .. and you have no hope. |x|
[Fin]
